Tears of Blood
by This Madness
Summary: Gwen gave up her boyfriend Trent a couple years ago. Now she's stuck with an awful, abusive boyfriend: Duncan, along with a crazy story behind it all. She thinks things will never go back to normal, but sometimes true love has a weird way of working out. ON HIATUS, MAYBE FOREVER...
1. Tears of Blood

**A/N: A sad, somewhat cliché fic that might be frequently updated, or not, I don't know. It will be told in Gwen's POV.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the fucking Total Drama series, do you?**

*Flashback*

_I wasn't thinking when I left. I was just mad. I didn't have the time to pack my stuff or do anything. I just wanted to leave Trent, and leave the stupid apartment. Trent and I had fought before, but this was the last straw. I was sick of fighting, and I was sick of him. The future didn't cross my mind, what would happen after I left. I just wanted to leave him._

_I swung the door open "Goodbye, Trent!" I screamed, slamming the door behind me. I could hear the thunder outside, and saw the purple lightning flash through the gray night sky. The weather matched my mood perfectly._

_I rushed to the stairs and began to run down them as if I had somewhere to be. We were on the fourth floor of the New York apartment building, so it didn't take that longs especially considering the fact I was going so fast I can swear I felt my blood bouncing in my veins. I got off the stairs and went into the lobby. No one was there. Not that I expected anyone to be, it was practically midnight._

_I left the apartment building and ran across the street. Rain poured on me like crazy, and by the time I reached my car on the other side of the street, I was drenched. As I opened the door to my Jeep, I heard someone scream, "Gwen! Wait up!"_

_Of course I knew who it was. It was Trent. He didn't want me to leave him, and looking back on it, in my heart I didn't want to leave him. I wasn't thinking straight, I wasn't thinking at all. "You should have said you wanted me before you said that shit!" I shouted back. "I hate you, Trent! I want to destroy you and your stupid guitar and all the suckish songs you wrote about me! Hot tears ran down my face and mixed with the cold rain, tingling on my face. "Not that any of them were true anyway, because this was NOT true love!" I entered my car and drove off. In my rearview mirror I could see Trent's frantic face. Every detail of that moment is forever etched into my brain._

Sitting on the back patio in my suburban home and sipping tea, I recall the worst decision of my life. If only I could go back to that moment now. I'd turn that damn car around, and kiss Trent. Kiss him hard and let him know I loved him. What I had with him is so much more than what I have now with… ugh. I swallow the lump in my throat. _Don't cry,_ I tell myself. _What if Duncan comes out here and sees you crying?_

Word of the devil. Just now, Duncan exits the house, slamming the door behind me and stomping towards me with an enraged face. "Hoe!" He slaps me across the face. "The boys and I had beers last night, why didn't you clean them up?"

I look guiltily to the left. I was hoping he wouldn't notice that I hadn't cleaned up the beers he, Geoff and DJ had last night.

Geoff and DJ don't know Duncan abuses me. They just think that we have a normal relationship, instead of the fact I'm nothing but his punching bag, dildo and unpaid maid.

You see, Duncan is a crazy, abusive drunk. I didn't know that when I met him at a bar. He, Geoff and Geoff's girlfriend, Bridgette (now my best friend) were watching a football game, and I slid into the empty seat next to them. Duncan and I started talking. He had this whole fake nice act on, and I fell for it. Also, I thought that he was a suitable match for me. We were both punks. I went home with him that night, since I had nowhere else to go. And then, I couldn't get out of it.

"I'm so sorry, Duncan," I say softly, leaning back a little. "I, I meant to. I must have forgotten. I'll go clean them up now."

"Yes you will, cunt. And as punishment for not paying any attention…" he swings me onto a lounge chair and start beating me like crazy. I want to cry for mercy, but I'm in too much pain to do anything. He throws me off the chair onto the hard concrete. "Now go clean the beers up," he says, even though I'm obviously too badly beat to even move a muscle. "NOW!"

"Duncan, I can't walk," I say, trying not to sound rude. Which is pretty hard, because everything seems rude to Duncan.

He kicks me in the back as I lie hopelessly on the floor. "Get it done," he grunts. "And I'm expecting sex tonight." He spits and walks inside, slamming the door behind him. I try to whisper something after him, but I can't make a sound. It wouldn't matter anyway now that he's shut the door behind him.

I attempt rolling over, but if I even move a fraction of an inch, my spine hurts like hell. I decide to figure out what I can move. I've been in this situation before, and I usually do this. After evaluating each major body part, I realize that I can only move my left arm.

As my eyelids get heavy, I began to drift off to sleep. The last thing I see before I doze off is my tear and a drop of blood mixing.

Tears of blood.

**Alright, so there was my suckish writing! :D Yay!**


	2. The Lark

** A/N: Thanks to all of you for the positive reviews! *hugs you* You guys are so sweet! Here's the next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Total Drama series. I'm sure that's a total shock.**

*Flashback*

_I drove for hours and hours. I knew there was nowhere to go but away from Trent. And right then, that was the only place I wanted to be._

_I didn't stop until about 4 in the morning, when I saw a little motel on the side of the highway with a sign that said "vacant". I doubted there would be anyone there to assist me do early in the morning, but I didn't care. My body was overcome with fatigue. I pulled into the small parking lot and entered the small lobby._

_To my surprise, there actually was someone there. It was a girl, about my age. She had purple hair in a long ponytail, big onyx eyes and she seemed like she was Hispanic, judging by her skin tone. Or she tanned a lot. "Hi," she said, smiling. "Are you looking for a room?"_

_I nodded. What else would I be doing? "Yeah. How much do you charge here?" I asked her._

_"It's forty dollars a night," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears, which, I realized, were tiny. "Here you go," she handed me a room key. I took it in my hand gingerly and walked down the hall toward the room number marked on my key._

_I put the key in the lock and twisted it so hard I was surprised that half of the key didn't break off in there. I removed it and entered the small room. It had a queen size bed, a small TV, a little desk in the corner and a small kitchen area with a dishwasher, sink and microwave. I blinked. My face was covered with gothic make-up, as it usually was. I never go to sleep with make-up on, but that night was the exception. I was so tired that I couldn't think._

_Had I been able to think, I would never have left Trent._

I wake up, triple-blinking. My back still stings, but the rest of me seems pretty OK, with some tender bruises and cuts. I lift myself up. It takes all my strength. As slowly, stiffly and carefully as a baby learning to walk, I begin stepping. I take another step. And another. Two years ago, walking was the least of my problems. Now, half the time I can't even do it.

Once I make my way into the living room, I begin cleaning up the beers. It's easy; all I have to do is put some beer bottles in a recycling bin. Of course, it would be even easier if I hadn't gotten my spine dislocated a few hours ago.

I've gone a whole 5 minutes without being called offensive names or abused, so I wonder where Duncan is. "DUNCAN!" I call. No answer. "DUNCAN!" _Still_ no answer. I sigh. I know where he is.

Duncan is suing a guy named Scott, who ripped him off on eBay or something like that. To help him sue Scott, he got a lawyer. Her name is Courtney. But judging by how she looks (she stopped by our house once) and how much time he spends with her, they are definitely more than coworkers. I can't say anything about it, because if I accused Duncan of cheating, he would deny it and beat me half to –or all the way to- death.

I decide to call Bridgette. Surprisingly, Duncan doesn't mind when I talk to Bridgette, or have her over. Even though Duncan actually trusts me with her, I would never in my wildest dreams tell her, even in private. Because she would tell Geoff, who she's still dating. And Geoff would tell Duncan, which would not end well.

"Hi," Bridgette says after a few rings. "What's going on?" she asks. "I have to go soon; I'm going to the beach to surf."

Bridgette's a surfer. She grew up in Hawaii, and both of her parents were already expert surfers, so, obviously, they thought her. When she turned nineteen, she didn't want to be so isolated anymore, so she moved to coastal New Jersey, where she, Geoff, Duncan and I live now. She still surfs, since we're about 10 miles away from the beach.

"Oh… well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over and hang out, but, since you're going surfing, never mind," I say. "Bye."

"Bye," she says, and I can feel her smile through the phone. After a couple seconds, I hear a long _beeeeeeeep_. I put down my phone and sigh, not sure of what to do.

I decide to go on iTunes. It's basically the only freedom I have left here. I download albums on there all the time. They even have a recommended list for me, full of metal, emo and gothic albums. I check it out: "Lies" by Love & Hate… "Never Ever" by Broken Souls… looks like it's full of wannabe shit. I scroll down a little. "Lost Love" by The Lark.

_The Lark,_ I think to myself. _Where have I heard that band name before?_

**Yeah, it's pretty bad… oh well, I tried. I know I suck. Thanks again for all the amazing reviews!**


	3. Regrets

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while… I'll try to be more active!**

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

*Flashback*

_Waking up, I triple blinked. "Morning, honey," I said. After a few seconds, I realized Trent wasn't in the bed. "He must be downstairs," I mumbled. I got out of bed. _Hey… this isn't the apartment,_ I thought. Then, the thoughts from the horrible night before came to me._

_Don't get me wrong, I still hated Trent. But I hated someone else even more: myself. In a fit of rage, I picked up a coffee cup from the motel room's counter and threw it at the wall, screaming. I took a knife and began cutting myself. I'd never cut myself before then. It felt good, for some reason._

_I hoped no one was in the room next to mine. As blood gushed from my wrist, I sat down on the chair in the corner of the room, dug my head into my hands and cried. Before then, I never cried. But people change by the second._

_Suddenly, I heard clatter going on from the keyhole. Someone else had a key to my room? My heart began racing. What if it was a psycho?_

_The purple-haired girl came into my room. I noticed how tall she was: she had to duck under the doorway. "What the hell is going on?"_

I click on The Lark's album to sample some music. Some of the first track on the CD, "Lost Love" is available.

_"I guess you'll never, ever know how sorry I am_

_Because I'll never, ever get to apologize_

_And you'll never, ever see what you've done to me_

_Yeah, you'll never, ever see how I feel inside_

_But what I know is that_

_I'm still crazy for you_

_Lost love, somewhere up in the stars_

_Lost love, and everything seems so dark_

_Lost love, do you know what I'd do to you in my arms?_

_Lost love, lost love, and I'll never see your face_

_Ever again."_

The sample ends. It was really good. I don't recognize the lead singer's voice, but I do, for some reason, recognize the melody that the guitarist is playing. I look at some other tracks. It seems pretty good, so I download it.

I hear the doorknob rattle. I shut off the computer and go over to the door. Duncan comes in. "I, uh, cleaned up the beers. Is there anything else you want me to do?" I ask, lip quivering. I almost add "sir" to the end of the sentence, but catch myself. I feel like Duncan would, for some reason, find that offensive.

"Not now," he says. I can tell he's drunk, even though it's only late afternoon. Being that when I met Courtney, she seemed uptight, I bet he had to slip some drinks into her for her to "be comfortable" with him.

I go up to mine and Duncan's room. I look out the window. Sometimes I feel like jumping out the window, and ending my life. I let a tear fall. Sometimes I just surrender to my weaknesses, whether I try to or not.

Duncan shouts, interrupting my misery. "Bitch, what have you done?" he yells. Oh god.

I run downstairs. "What is it, Duncan?" I walk into the kitchen, where Duncan is standing, pointing at three filled garbage bags. "Um…" I don't know anything about them.

"I told you to bring them out!" he exclaims, getting in my face. "You are the most stupid, dick-sucking SLUT ever!"

"I'm, I'm so sorry Duncan," I stutter. Had Trent have said that, I would have killed him. But it's different now. "I'll get them." I take one in one hand and one in the other, and begin making my way out the door.

"You're so fucking stupid!" he yells. "What about the third, bitch? WHAT ABOUT THE THIRD?"

"I was going to make two trips…" I say. _Duh._

"You're so idiotic!" he says, and slaps me across the face, making the bags fall out of my hands. "You're _going_ to take two trips, unless I say otherwise!" I nod, unable to speak. I pick the bags up, run out the door and drop them at the curb.

I take my phone out and flip through my contacts. I see someone's name. Someone I haven't talked to in over a year. But she's the one I really need right now. Without thinking, I click on it. Despite what happened, it's time to become friends again.

So I'm calling Sierra Drew.

**That's all! :D Review you gorgeous fanfiction-ers!**


	4. Sierra Morris

**A/N: Thanks for the awesome reviews! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not, N-O-T, not, own the TD series. Just clarifying things.**

*Flashback*

_Our eyes locked for a second. Then, she looked all over the room. "Oh my lord," she muttered, her eyes bouncing from the mug shards to my cut wrist to the tears covering my face. I wanted to scream in her face to get away, that this wasn't her business, that you need to give your customers privacy, but I felt to weak. I just broke out in tears again._

_"W-w-what, what happened?" she asked me, gently brushing her ring finger on the countertop. "Are you OK?"_

_I wanted to lie. I wanted to say, "Yes, I'm fine, get the fuck out of my room." But I couldn't. Something told me not to. "No!" I screamed. "Do I look like I'm fine?"_

_"No…" she said. "Just tell me what happened."_

_I might as well have told her. I didn't have enough money to pay for another night. "Well, you see, my boyfriend and I, we, we got in this massive fight, and, well, um, I stormed out on him. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to leave. So, now I'm here. Wherever the hell I am! I can't go back, I don't know where I am, and he'd never take me back!"_

_Purple-haired girl came over and sat on the side of the bed, taking my hand in hers gingerly. "It'll be OK, sweetie," she said, squeezing my hand. "You can come and stay at my house. Things will be alright, I promise you."_

_We walked up to the car. She got in the driver's seat and I got in the passenger's seat. "My name's Sierra Drew," she told me, tucking her purple hair behind her tiny ear. "Even though I own the motel, my dream is being part of the paparazzi. But enough about me. How about you?"_

_"I'm Gwen. Gwen Morris. I'm an artist," I said, flicking my dyed-blue strand of hair from my forehead, trying to act nonchalant. I knew it wasn't working._

_The rest of the short ride to Sierra's house, we were silent. But really, we weren't. It seemed like… we were talking, in our thoughts. But not in words. In feelings._

_Even though it only was a few short minutes, it felt like eternity. Suddenly, the car screeched to a stop. I glanced to my left. A large Victorian house was beside us._

_As soon as we got in, Sierra handed me a tissue and picked up her purple cell phone. "Hi? Cody? It's me, Sierra. Cover for me, k? Thanks." As she talked, I wiped the tears from my eyes and wiped the blood of my wrist. I looked down at the tissue._

_I guess I started crying tears of blood earlier than I thought I did._

The phone rings. And rings. And rings. I'm scared that the receiver will pick up. But in the nick of time, she picks up. I hear her breath, slowly and steadily. Yet, she says nothing. _Start the conversation,_ I tell to myself. But I can't. I'm just too scared. "…Gwen?"

"Yeah, it's me. I know, what happened was… just… well, I'm sorry. But the past is the past. I want to be your friend again," I say. "I'm sorry I made such a big shit about him. He was, he was your true love. But you know I never would have done that on purpose."

"I know you didn't, Gwen," she says. "But the point is you stole him, and, accident or not, he's gone now. I sheltered you. I fed you. I helped you when you had no one left. And that was how you repaid me. And now, you expect me to listen to you bitch and moan about whatever?"

"I'm abused. Sierra, I'm abused. I made a couple mistakes, OK? I admit it. But that doesn't mean I should be beaten the hell out of every day. And if you think it is, you have to let go. You loved him, and maybe he loved you. But love, even true love, never turns out right."

Long silence. I must have been too harsh. I must have said the wrong thing. After a few moments, she speaks again. "I still live where I used to. Sneak out tomorrow night and drive over."

I triple-blink. "I will."

**K, well the flashback was long, but the present day was pretty short… er… sorry.**


End file.
